


You are here

by chr0matic



Category: Gintama
Genre: Family, Gen, Implied Past Child Abuse, Implied past child neglect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:34:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25360012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chr0matic/pseuds/chr0matic
Summary: On their journey, Shouyou and little Oboro find that learning how to be a family is harder than they thought. When a rain storm catches them unaware, old wounds reopen and shattered trust begins to heal.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	You are here

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [plipdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plipdragon) and [Selyann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selyann) for helping me with their insightful comments and feedback 🥰🥰🥰

When Shōyō awoke on a mist-veiled morning, the bedroll next to his was empty, and his little travel companion was nowhere to be seen.

“Oboro?”

There was no reply. He leapt to his feet and surveyed the camp. No signs of a struggle, no indication that Oboro had not left by his own volition. He ran his hand over his disciple’s blanket, but no traces of warmth remained. Oboro’s straw hat had been left behind, but his bundle was missing.

Shōyō’s heart sank. Maybe Oboro had decided to leave. It only made sense. Who would want to stay with the monster who had taken part in the destruction of their home after all? But no, he wouldn’t just disappear like this. Had he not come after Shōyō when he had escaped the Naraku? Either way, Oboro was a child and it was too dangerous for him to travel by himself. If he did want to leave, Shōyō would bring him somewhere where he would be safe and with good people who took care of him. But there was another possibility, Shōyō thought with a shudder. Had Oboro been attacked by a wild animal, or taken by some of the bandits that roamed these mountains? They hadn’t seen any sign of the Naraku pursuers for days, but had they really managed to shake them off? Had they captured Oboro? Fear crept into his chest and wrapped its icy tendrils around his heart.

Shōyō began frantically looking for clues what might have happened to his disciple, his apprehension growing stronger with every second that passed. Finally, he found something as he started searching in wider circles around their camp. There! A broken twig—some trampled grass near that lichen-covered rock—someone had passed here not long ago, someone light and short of stature—a child. He followed the trail, the whispers of fear echoing through his head until they became louder and louder, a cacophony that threatened to drown out his thoughts.

“Oboro? Where are you? I told you to stay close to me!”

More broken twigs—a small footprint on the mossy ground—what would he find at the end of the trail?

“Oboro? Oboro!”

What if he was too late? The hesitant smile, half-hidden behind silver curls, the footsteps following behind him, the small hand grasping his—forever gone. The first human being who had—

A sunlit clearing with a little brook. A small figure in black crouching in front of a tree. Silver hair shimmering in the morning light—

“Oboro!”

His disciple whipped around, eyes widened in surprise. “Sensei?” It looked like he was hastily trying to hide something in his bundle, but Shōyō was too relieved to pay it much heed.

He threw his arms around Oboro and pressed the small body to his chest. How fragile it was, like a little bird. A soft gasp of surprise, then a pair of thin arms wrapped around Shōyō’s body and began to rub circles into his back. After what seemed like an eternity, Shōyō released his disciple with a shaky breath and scrutinised him anxiously. Was he injured? No—he looked a little pale and tired, but seemed otherwise unharmed. He cupped Oboro’s face with his hands and gently ran a thumb over his cheek. It was soft and warm. A curious sound bubbled up in Shōyō’s throat, something between laughter and a sigh of relief. How long had it been since he had experienced such terror? He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been afraid. How could it be that a child he had barely known for a season could evoke such feelings in him?

“Sensei?” Big silver-blue eyes looked at Shōyō with a mixture of concern and confusion.“It’s okay, Sensei.” Oboro patted his arm. Then, he furrowed his brows. “Did something happen? Are you alright?”

Shōyō’s eyebrows shot up. “Did something happen ...? I woke up and you were gone. I thought you were …” he trailed off. “What were you thinking, running off on your own like that?”

Oboro looked away. “I … I was just …”

“What were you doing here anyway?” Shōyō felt a stab of insecurity as he awaited his disciple’s answer. Had he wanted to part ways after all?

“Nothing, I …” Oboro’s eyes flitted to the gnarled tree behind him. The expression of guilt on his face gave him away as much as the throwing knife marks on the bark.

Some of the marks were misses—throws that had glanced off or were too low to have hit their mark if the tree had been an enemy. But most of them had hit true, in the middle of the trunk. Where an adult’s chest would’ve been. Shōyō’s stomach tied itself into knots, and he bit his lip.

“Oboro, you’re hiding something.” he said sternly. “Show it to me.” The boy hesitated for a moment, wringing his hands. Then he obeyed, revealing the throwing knives that he had been practicing with after rummaging in his bundle for a while. He did not dare to meet Shōyō’s gaze.

“I can't believe this ... Did you get these from the Naraku?”Shōyō scolded, confiscating the knives.

Oboro flinched. “Yes …” he said quietly, seemingly shrinking into himself. “I-I found them embedded in a training mannequin. I took them and I brought them with me.”

“Why did you do that? You promised you’d give up on learning killing techniques!” Had Shōyō hesitated too long to escape the Naraku? Had he caused this sweet innocent child to be corrupted?

“Sensei,” Oboro stammered. “I-I just wanted to ... I want to be of use to you! I can-I can fight, too! Please, let-let me help!”

Worry and guilt roiled in Shōyō’s chest, making him feel nauseous. Numbness spread through his body as if a venomous snake had sunk its fangs into his heart. Deep down, he had known it all along. But he had preferred to ignore the truth and chased after a beautiful mirage, believing that he could win against the reaper inside himself, that he could change. But a monster who had stained his hands with the blood of thousands couldn’t possibly raise a child to be a decent human being. He had ruined Oboro just by being near to him.

“Enough!” he exploded. “There’s no need for you to fight, I’ll protect you! I don’t want you to become a killer! Why won’t you listen to me?”

Oboro froze. All the colour drained from his face, and he looked up at Shōyō with wide eyes. He opened his lips as if to speak, but did not make a sound. Shōyō hesitated briefly, then decided to continue with his lecture. It might not be too late yet. But he had to get through to Oboro, or his disciple would end up walking down a path there was no coming back from.

“I know you want to help,” he said, forcing himself to speak in a calmer tone. “And you are helping, in more ways than you can imagine. But taking a life, even in self-defense, is a serious thing that will change you forever. You shouldn’t take it lightly. There’s enough time for you to learn the sword later, when you’re older. That’s why I want you to stop doing this.”

Shōyō gestured at the tree that his disciple had used for target practice. When he glanced back at Oboro, he noticed that he was not looking at him but staring into space, his eyes unfocused and a far-off look on his face.

“Are you dreaming?” he said incredulously. “Have you been listening to a single thing I said?”

Oboro blinked as if waking from a deep slumber. “Huh? I ... of-of course I was listening.” he answered, his befuddled expression belying his words.

Shōyō let out a frustrated sigh. What had happened to his obedient disciple? Where was this sudden defiance coming from? He ran his hands through his hair and swallowed his anger. Then, he knelt on the ground in front of the boy and put his hands on his thin shoulders. “This is important!” he said with urgency, unable to keep an edge out of his voice. “I need you to listen to me.” 

“But I have to-I have to-“ Oboro kept shaking his head. “I want to … I just wanted to help …”

Why did he keep arguing! Shoyo bit back a sharp retort. He took a deep breath to keep the irritation at bay. He didn’t understand why his disciple was acting like this, but surely, there was a reason behind it. He just hadn’t uncovered it yet.

“Please, just … just stay close to me.” he said, tightening his grip on the boy’s shoulders. “Don’t run off on your own again. And I don’t want you to train with sharp weapons. Protecting you is my job.”

Oboro hung his head. “I’m sorry … I’m sorry … I won’t do it again … I promise …” he stammered, trying to stifle a sob.

Shōyō felt sick to his stomach for reducing his disciple to tears. Discipline was necessary, but he had clearly overdone it, overwhelmed by his own inner turmoil. Nothing was lost yet—Oboro’s future was still undecided. His disciple had said it himself: They would open a school where students and master learned side by side. There was room for him to make mistakes, too. Far he might be from being a good teacher now, he could close the distance, little by little. He had been far too harsh, allowing himself to be led astray by his fears.

Shōyō tousled Oboro’s soft curls, smiling apologetically.“I’m sorry … I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Oboro tensed briefly, then relaxed and leaned into the caress.

“Just stay close to me … and listen to what I say. I-I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. I’ll think about teaching you some techniques for self-defence when you’re a little older.

“Really? You’ll teach me how to fight?” Oboro perked up at this, a timid smile spreading on his pale face.

“When you’re older.” Shōyōsaid, trying to curb his disciple’s enthusiasm. “For now, it’s my job to keep us both safe. And your job is to listen to me. Okay?”

Oboro wiped his reddened eyes and nodded vigourously. He beamed at Shōyō, and the former Naraku leader could feel the corners of his own mouth tugging upwards. Warmth rolled through his chest and banished the numbness and the nausea.

He patted his disciple’s head again.“Are you hungry? I could use some breakfast after all this excitement.”

* * *

Despite his outwardly cheerful demeanour, Shōyō was plagued by recurring doubts on their way back to camp. Though he was overjoyed that Oboro was unharmed and didn’t appear to want to leave, his disobedient behaviour was troubling. He had foolishly thought that everything would be easy once they escaped from the Naraku, but it seemed like the real test had only begun. Never having had a companion before, navigating a close relationship based on mutual trust and affection was uncharted territory to him. If even this proved difficult, maybe it had been arrogant to believe that he could ever be a teacher. How could he lecture Oboro on killing when he had left a mountain of corpses in his wake? How could a monster teach a child about morality?

Since Oboro had never been anything but sweet and perfectly obedient before, he hadn’t expected ongoing conflicts between them. When they had still been at the Naraku, they hadn’t had the chance for long talks very often between Shōyō’s duties and Oboro’s chores. Now that they spent all their time in each others’ company, he realised how little he knew about his disciple. Shōyō sighed and massaged his temples. Taking care of and guiding a child was a lot harder than he had anticipated. But he would continue to struggle, for his disciple’s sake. He could only hope that he would not let him down, that he would live up to the image of himself he saw reflected in those silver eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, I'd be very happy if you could give me some feedback 💕 Talk to me about Gintama or TakaObo on twitter ([@sentientomrice](https://twitter.com/sentientomrice)) if you like!


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